Pay Attention
by KMFBRose
Summary: It's a short story. Robin's POV. What are the consequences if you aren't aware of your surroundings?


**This is my first young justice story. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. (Robin's POV)**

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I should have listened to him. I should have heard how anxious he sounded, his voice a higher pitch than usual. I should have questioned why he yelled, when I was just in the other room. The fear that lurked behind his words should have sent me sprinting into the other room, but it didn't. I hadn't been paying attention.

I heard him call out, "Hey Rob . . . you need to get in here." I sighed, and ignored him. Whatever new game he was playing, I wasn't interested. I refocused on the computer screen. I was close, so close to hacking into the encrypted files I had found on Bruce's personal computer. I couldn't worry about video games. Bruce had worked hard to hide whatever was in these files. The voice rang out again, and I started to feel irritated. "Rob . . . please?" I refused to acknowledge the small plea. "Not now," I muttered. My fingers were flying across the keyboard, and I was there. It was as if the locks were clicking open, when the message popped up. REALLY ROBIN? I swore under my breath, and that's when I heard it. The gunshots rang in my ears, and although my brain froze, I guess my body kept going. The next thing I knew I was in the other room. Wally lay on the floor curled up in pain, his hands clutched to his stomach, crimson blood seeped through his fingers. A man stood over him, the gun still smoking in his hand. I still wasn't in control because in an instant there was a little explosion, and I saw one of my birdarangs go off at his feet. The man began stumbling backwards, and I instinctively threw another. The man was fast, and he caught it, but not fast enough. Gas poured from the birdarang, and he was out cold on the floor in seconds.

I fell to the ground next to Wally, who was moaning, his eyes shut tight as he attempted to keep the pressure on his wound. I began shaking, and the tears poured down my face. I now had control of neither my mind, nor my body. Wally was now shaking too, and I looked down seeing his emerald-green eyes darting around before they finally rested on my face. Wally had gone white as a sheet, a startling contrast to his bloodied hands. "Rob?" he said it as a question. In fact, it was too many questions. Questions I understood, but had no answers to. _"What's going on? Will I be all right? Why didn't you come sooner? Can you stop the pain? How did he get in? Are you all right? Am I going to . . ." _I stopped myself from completing the thought. That single, feeble word had brought me back to my senses. I tried to lock down the feelings and emotions behind a dam that I knew would eventually break. That didn't matter now though. I needed to get traught. Wally needed me right here, right now, and I could take the time to be distraught later. I looked at Wally and began assessing the wound. He had lost a lot of blood, and he was trembling. Due to his super speed, Wally's skin had begun healing around where the bullet had entered. I wasn't sure, but closing the bullet in seemed like a step backwards. I needed to get Wally to expert, and I needed to get him there now.

I scooped Wally up gently, but despite holding him closer it felt like he was slipping away faster. I moved towards the med bay slowly, trying not to cause him any more pain. As I walked it felt like I was disconnecting from my body. I tried to come with what to do next. Surely someone else had heard the shot. It had felt like hours, but in reality, only a minute or two had passed. They would find us soon. The longer I walked the farther my mind seemed to float from the real situation, and soon I was looking down at myself, but I seemed younger. I wasn't brave or confident. I lacked my usual grin, and I felt vulnerable. I was scared, and unsure. Then I realized I was speaking. "No. No, no, no. You can't leave me." I heard the little boy whisper to his shivering friend. "You'll be fine," he murmured as if he were trying to convince himself. I wasn't sure what to think. I watched, as I continued to move forward slowly repeating the lines. The sound of footsteps caught my attention, and I was snapped back together. I could barely hold Wally, but the sight of Black Canary, our den mother for the week, made me feel slightly relieved. "Robin, what's going on? Did I hear gunshots, and what . . ." Canary's question died away as she finally connected her questions to the wheezing boy in my arms. I stood there helplessly, unable to speak. Canary took Wally from my aching arms, and then she raced down the corridor without so much as a backward glance. I stood there, my arms hanging limply at my sides. My feelings, and thought were a jumbled mess. I don't know how long I stood there, but it didn't matter. I was vaguely aware of people passing me, but I didn't care. I stayed, not moving, not thinking. Even when I felt a calloused hand grab my shoulder, I remained frozen. "Robin," came a gruff voice from behind me. I didn't respond. "Robin he's going to live. He'll be fine. It's going to be a complete recovery." I was thrilled, I was relieved, I was unbelievably grateful, but I couldn't turn to face my mentor . . . I couldn't face anyone. Not now anyway, because it was my fault.

I should have listened to him. I should have heard how anxious he sounded, his voice a higher pitch than usual. I should have questioned why he yelled, when I was just in the other room. The fear that lurked behind his words should have sent me sprinting into the other room, but it didn't. I hadn't been paying attention.

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**I hope you liked it. You may be wondering how the guy got in, but to be honest, I haven't really thought that through yet. I'm considering a second story. It would be another short story, and it would start where this one begins, but this time from Wally's POV. What do you think?**


End file.
